Who Makes Your Money
by clarahoswald
Summary: Skye is a Killer for Hire. Captured by Daniel Whitehall, Skye finds something and someone (maybe two someones) that tip her world upside down. For the better? For the worse? She doesn't even know. (Maybe some Skyeward. Very AU. Based on the awesome gifset by "kisapandemonium" on tumblr. I don't own any rights to Agents of Shield.)
1. Chapter 1

Heavy breathing. Blood on her hands. Dead bodies cluttered around the room.

These were just some of the few things Skye's noticed when her vision came back into her main line of focus.

"Ah….shit." She gasped as she began to pick herself up off the floor.

By this point Skye should be used to days like these. Finding yourself covered from head to toe in blood that surely isn't your own, and finding men in black suits so fast asleep that they won't woke up for years, circling your breathless but alive body. Heck, this is almost been an everyday thing for Skye, for the past week.

She finally planted her feet firmly into the ground, and placed her hands behind her head.

Looking over the chaos in the room, the anger, the adrenaline and the ruthlessness Skye had felt while she was killing all these assholes, returned to her. She swallowed her throat.

"All of you can suck me off!"


	2. Chapter 2

There it was.

The sound Skye had been waiting to hear for almost three months. The electronic swoosh of an email, landing in Skye's inbox.

She kicked her feet off the wall, letting a few pointless pieces of paper fall down on to her bed, she walked up to her laptop that sat on the far side of her van.

The first line of the email already caught her attention;

A new contract, brilliant. Thank you Mr. Coulson.

Skye's blood lust was beginning to distract her from the simpler things in her life, but here we are.

A new name, more money, and a new sense of satisfaction once she takes her finger off the trigger.

Or, would it be that simple?

-

" _But shit, it was ninety-nine cents! Bang it!"_

Two feet on the ground, and Skye was already excited, like a child on Christmas, for new blood.  
She landed on the ground, un-hooking her harness from her waist, and took in her surroundings.

An abandoned warehouse.

Oh, she loved those.

Out in the middle of nowhere, no around to her the gun shot echo, plenty of places to hide the body and for no one to find it.

Fuck!

Skye lived for the adrenaline this job gave her. That beating in her heart that never felt like her regular heart beat whenever she was nearing her target.

" _Coppin' it, washin' it, 'bout to go and get some compliments."_

The warehouse was big. Huge in fact. Shit, it looked like something out of Saw, except less chains and anything any other sick minded folk could think of to use to kill someone.

Her footfalls echoed for miles, hitting the other side of the wooden walls. As Skye almost tiptoed around the hall, a small light from a distant hallway caught her attention.

As she walked down the dark corridor, that seemed to suck Skye further and further into a void of emptiness, Skye began to hear voices.

Back against the wall, gun between the thighs, teeth digging into her lips, she kicked down the door.

"Party's here! Who's ready to get murdered? Trick question. It's everyone."

A guy began to run at her. Skye shoots him. Another guy charges with his fist, but Skye breaks it, punching him in his groin.

The third and final guy was wuss. The people in the room were playing a game of cards, while observing the empty warehouse through screens of security cameras.

Skye punched down the final guy, holding him down with her knees on his arms.

"Say goodbye to your face, asswipe."

Before Skye can even begin to place her finger on the trigger, she heard the cocking of guns behind her.

" _Shit."_


	3. Chapter 3

It was Skye's head that hit the floor first. A large smack on the concrete, and then the following groan that sounded like she had just been punched in the arm, reminded Skye that this was just another ordinary day at the office.

She brings her feet up, and twists her body round to the large cell bars. Behind it guards were scrambling out of the room, yelling "Mr. Whitehall is approaching! Everyone vacate the area!"

Mr. Whitehall? Was that Skye's target?

Mr. Coulson never left her a name in the email, which was a first but Skye didn't think much of it at the time, but he gave her a brief description of the target's description. Tall. White-male. Young/old looking. Scary.

Okay, so those weren't the actual details, but Skye was finally beginning to feel the pain in her head from the concrete, so everything was beginning to feel scrambled.

Pushing herself up off the floor, Skye limps over to the bars, grabbing one in each hand.

"Hey!" She roars. She can feel the adrenaline at the back of throat as she talks, and in her head, constantly reminds herself "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job."

"If you think this can hold me, then you are greatly underestimating how many times I've been to prison."

The door in front of her slams. Footsteps begin approaching her cell. She doesn't want to admit it to herself, but Skye was actually beginning to feel scared.

Who were these men? What were those jackasses doing before they were playing cards? What were all those screens? How many people are in here?

No.

How many people _died_ in here?

" _Shut up, Skye, you're overthinking, shut the fuck up._ "

She musters up the courage to finally look at her guest in the eye.

Okay, so he was definitely young. A lot of stubble covers the whole of his jawline.  
" _A leatherjacket, wow, look at you Mr. Biker man, get out the way, bitch._ "  
Dark, short, hair. And DAMN, was he cute and sexy.

She bites down on her lip.

"Ah. So, you must be the prisoner." The man spoke. He had kind of a young, scruffy voice to him. Just from looking at him you would think his voice was the boom from a loud speaker, playing electronica music, but no. He had _some_ innocence to him, at least.

Or so she thought.

Skye looks around her cell.

"No, I'm just here for a luxury visit." She smiles sarcastically.

The man laughs, letting his head fall down to the ground. He looks back up at her.

"Sassy. Nice."

He scratches his nose. Skye has no idea why that caught her attention, but something told her that this little meet'n'greet wasn't all that it seems.

"So, Mr. Whitehall, what the heck are you gonna do with me?" Her words bounced off her tongue.

The man places a hand to his chest, and looks surprised.

"Wh- me?" The man laughs again.  
"Wow, I must be a real comedian today, huh?" Skye jested.  
"Oh, I'm not Mr. Whitehall. Far from it."  
"Okay." She says. "Then who the heck are you?"

Her voice was soft and low. This was always her front whenever she met someone who she felt was a threat. It was her way of showing them that this woman wasn't afraid of anything or anyone.

"My name's Grant Ward. I'm a, uh….associate of Mr. Whitehall…you could say. I'm here to take you to him."

Skye shrugs.

"Okay, _Grant Ward_. Then let's fucking go."

* * *

"OKAY, so you can take this fucking BLINDFOLD off now, thank you."

The light from the ceiling bulbs, smacks her in the face.

A few silhouettes begin to come into focus. Then the beginning of a few faces, then her eye sight makes a full recovery.

She counts about 12 men in the room.

"Is this really necessary?" She asks, craning her neck back around to the man in the centre.

He was in a grey sight. His hands, clasped together, like an asshole headteacher greeting the new students a new year of high school in assembly.

His tie was sharp down the middle of his suit, and his glasses were old. Something about him screamed German.

There wasn't a thing out of place with this man. His jawline was sharp, sharper than wards. His face had the right amount of bone structure showing that would surely make anyone want to kiss him.

Probably.

"You tell me." He says, moving one hand out of the clasp, in direction of her.

Silence falls in the room. The only thing anyone would be able to hear is how much Skye wants to kill someone right now.

Anyone one of these assholes would do.

Except Ward.

Maybe.

"I'm a big fan of your work, Ms. Skye." The man in the grey suit spoke.

Skye rolls her eyes, and looks up at Grant.

"Is he for real?"  
"Mr. Whitehall has been watching you for some time now. Ever since you abandoned your team, the Rising Tide. Or should we say…kill them."

Beat. Skye's heart fell a few metres down her chest.

 _Killed?_ Where the fuck did that come from? If anything Skye adored that team. She did nothing but work her ass off on every mission they set out, and to hear a false claim, claiming to have killed them, well that just made Skye's bloodlust for these assholes soar even higher.

"May I finish my sentence?" The dick in the grey suit spoke.

Skye glares at him.

"As I was saying." He says, shifting his glasses.

"I'm a fan of your work, Ms. Skye."

Again, she rolls her eyes.

"Are you also a fan of how I'm gonna shove my gun so far up your ass, you can taste it?"

Grant chokes on his laugh. The grey suit looks bemused at him.

"I don't appreciate threats like those, Ms. Skye."  
"Well, you better get used to them because for as long I'm here, that's all you're going to be having for dinner." Skye tucks in her lips, in a sarcastic smile. "Anyway, I don't even know your name, but I'm assuming at how much arrogance you stand with, I'm assuming you're Mr. Whitehall."

"You would be correct."  
"So, why am I here?"  
"In a word or two, I'd say you're here as collateral damage."


	4. Chapter 4

Skye knew she wouldn't get any answers out of Mr. Whitehall or Ward. They would probably keep her locked up in her cell for the rest of her days, she had already pissed them off so much.

Once, she could walk about her cell freely, now her wrists are tied to a rope dangling from the ceiling, and her feet won't reach the floor. She can feel her hands going cold, and her head wound isn't helping her situation either.

More footsteps approach her cell.

"Ugh, would you leave me the fuck alone!" She cries.

Ward stands at her cell.

"How's it hanging?" He says with an asshole grin smacked across his jaw.  
"Oh, wow, look at this we've got our very own Reggie Watts in the building."  
"Reggie Watts?"  
"You don't know who Reggie Watts is?"  
"Nope."  
"He's a- look I'm not having this fucking conversation with you right now."  
"Yeah, I can see." He pauses. "You're kinda tied up."  
"UGH, FUCK OFF!" She screams, reaching her foot to kick the cell.

Ward chuckles. Skye can tell his laugh comes from deep inside his chest, because it's so fucking loud.

She digs her teeth into the rope. It slashes at her gum, and cuts it drawing some blood down her tooth, and into her throat. She coughs, splattering some all over the cell floor.

The blood beginning to rain from her gum now, covers her hands. Her teeth keep on cutting away at the rope, before she hears the first creak of the rope about to snap.

It isn't long before she hits the concrete floor yet, again, but this time her ass taking the first punch.  
She groans again, but doesn't let the pain stop her from escaping.

She walks over to the cell door, and rattles it. Nah, that door is definitely locked.

Except.

After the door rattled, the sound of something metal, hitting the key hole panel, ringed shortly after. She looked down at the hole and saw a set of keys, intertwined in the locks. Reachable too.

She grabs the keys and twists, slowly opening the cell door in fear of it squeaking. She sneaks out of the sizeable gap she made with the door, and runs down the endless corridors.

Ah, yes, what a fine day at the office. Covered in blood. Breathless. Weaponless. Friendless. Nothing new.

Her footsteps obviously attracted someone's attention, as suddenly the sound of feet repeatedly hitting the concrete hard and fast, come calling back for her. She runs to the hallway the footcalls are coming from, and slides her back against the corner.

3…2…1…

She raises her elbow and knocks the man down, with no iota of remorse on her face.

Shit.

It was Ward.

She was surely in for it now.

"Thanks." Ward said, in his politest, manner. He didn't seem to mind that they're high profile target has just managed to cut a deeply tied rope, and escaped her cell. He didn't seem to mind at all.

"Ward… You left the keys in my cell, didn't you?" She says.  
"Maybe, I just wanted to see your pretty face again, outside of a prison environment."  
"Yeah, well not much has changed. But, thanks for calling me pretty."

Ward smiles, grabbing onto Skye's arm as she pulls her up.

"So, what is this, some kind of trap, or are you really helping me get out of her?"  
Ward pulls a gun out of the front of his jeans. .

Damn, he looks gun wielding again, around his groin.

"There's something I want to show you."


End file.
